


G is For Genie

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester to the Rescue, Dream Sex, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, genie!Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 22:29:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sam’s the one to tell him about the old brass lamp in the junk shop, and how some of the kids at school swear it moves.Dean finds there’s a lot more to i than that.





	G is For Genie

**Author's Note:**

> So this was meant to be a response to a comment fic style prompt over at the meme, but that didn’t work.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Dean says.

Sam’s laughing, and Dean can’t tell if it’s through sheer excitement (the little nerd) or because Dean’s on to him and he can’t keep his face straight.

“No, I’m not shitting you,” he says, and puts a hand over his heart like that’s going to magically convince his big brother. “Darren saw it in the old shop, said he went to rub it and it moved.”

Dean huffs, rolls his eyes. Knowing what he does of Darren, he’d bet the little shit was rubbing _something_ that moved but it sure as hell wasn’t some bashed up brass lamp.

“Sam. If I go check this out, and I end up getting kicked out of the store by some crazy old lady storekeeper because she’s had forty teenagers in her store wanting to look at her magic lamp…”

He surrenders, and goes, makes sure he’s got his wallet and his gun, just in case, grumbling all the way because he’s just sure Sam’s sitting back there laughing his damn head off.

++

The old woman eyes him as he comes in, but it’s pretty clear he’s no student, so she lets him be, leaves him to wander around the stacks of junk and heirlooms, until he finds what Sam was so damn excited about.

It really is a brass lamp, looking straight out of the pages of a fairy tale and he circles it carefully, looking for any obvious markings or warnings.

He knows Sam wouldn’t have been stupid enough to touch it without being sure what it was, but the rest of those dumbass kids, who knows?

If they’re going to get with an epidemic of cursed teenagers, he’d like some warning.

But there’s nothing to suggest it’s anything other than what it appears to be, a bashed in, old looking brass lamp.

Still, Dean’s cautious as he picks it up, and isn’t too surprised when it doesn’t move. 

There’s no sparks, no puff of magic smoke, or some guy in pantaloons and a floofy hat suddenly popping into view.

“Dumbass kids,” he mutters, and then puts the lantern down.

As he turns to go, he bangs straight into a guy. Not, thankfully, wearing pantaloons or any kind of hat.

He’s just a guy, wearing a suit that’s seen better days, but with the most fucking dazzling blue eyes Dean’s ever seen.

So it takes him a moment to get his head together and apologise, and go. But he can’t resist a look back, and sure enough, the guy in the suit’s staring after him, probably thinking he’s just a rude dick.

Probably.

++

But that night, suit guy’s in Dean’s dreams. 

Dean doesn’t know where they are, his surroundings hazy, but there’s a bed, a big old fashioned thing, and he’s lowering the guy onto it, already got him naked, and the guy’s desperate like he hasn’t been touched in a fucking millennium.

He’s responsive, too, body reacting to every single thing Dean does, and Dean wants to take care of this guy, he needs to, because he feels like this guy needs it bad.

Especially when, as Dean’s fucking him, the guy looks at him with such a wary longing and tells Dean it’s only through him he can find his release.

Dean has the feeling he isn’t talking about coming.

++

The next day, Dean’s back at the shop. He doesn’t know why, but he’s there some ten minutes after it opens, and he’d have been there earlier, but Sam was being a little bitch, and running late, and Dean had to drop him off.

He gets there to see some short guy in a suit picking up the lamp and following the old lady up to the front.

“Hey, hold on,” Dean says, and makes a grab for the lamp.

The guy twists easily out of his way. “I beg your pardon.”

He’s English, and makes it sound like ‘fuck off’.

“I’m buying that,” Dean says. Which is crazy because what the hell does he want with an old lamp?

“I believe this gentleman has already agreed to purchase it,” the old woman says, and she’s looking warily between them.

“That’s right,” the Englishman says, and he actually sneers at Dean.

Dean looks at the tag on the lamp. $30 dollars. Fuck.

But he digs them out of his wallet, and slaps them down on the counter.

“Well,” the old lady says, but then English guy gets his wallet out and puts another $10 on top of Dean’s money.

Dean glares, but grabs his last $20 and puts it down and reaches for the lamp.

His heart sinks when the other guy just puts more money down again and looks smug.

“I already think you’re out of gas and food money for the week,” he says, and there’s that look again, like he knows Dean’s going to have to account for that cash and be eating beans for days.

He’s not wrong. The money on the desk is every cent Dean’s got until he can scam some more, and he feels a cold sweat break out on him as the Englishman separates out their cash, pushes Dean’s back at him, and his own towards the woman.

And then he goes, leaving Dean staring forlornly after him, half hearing the old woman suggesting maybe he look around and see if he could find something else?

++

He drives around town for a while after that, aimlessly, only aware enough to avoid running somebody down or clipping another car.

Why the hell should it matter to him that somebody beat him to a stained, bashed old lamp. What the hell was he going to do with it anyway? 

His dad would probably have dumped it in the trash the minute he saw it, and then took a belt to him, grown man or not, for losing so much cash.

All the same, he finds himself wondering where it was now, and that sends his thoughts back to the guy in the suit.

Maybe he’d wanted the lamp too. If so, then they’re both in the same boat.

And then he hears a voice from the back seat.

“I don’t want to tell you about your form of transport, but I think this is a car.”

Dean pulls in so fast he almost rips the steering wheel off; he draws his gun and twists to aim it into the back at whoever the hell snuck into his car.

Except when he does, there’s nowhere there...not in the back, at least.

What is lying there, in the middle of the back seat, is that damn lamp.

“There’s no point in aiming a gun at me,” the voice says. “Bullets don’t work on…”

Dean spins around to find the suit guy sitting next to him in the car. He looks kind of amused, and Dean feels a frazzle of annoyance at that, except he’s feeling others things, his body so close to the one he spent an entire night of dreams pleasuring, and …

“Genies,” he says, because it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Suit grin grins at him, a little gummy, but those blue eyes spark. “I knew when you picked up my lamp, you were different. I felt...a bond between us.”

Somehow, Dean’s got the feeling their night of passion maybe wasn’t so much of a dream after all, but he’s not about to go there yet.

“How’d you get in my car?”

The genie huffs. “I was never going anywhere with Crowley. He’s been after me for years, looking for my lamp. Technically, I fudged the rules; but you laid claim to me, Dean, so I was able to come to you.”

Laid claim to him. “If that’s genie-speak for..”

The genie actually blushes.

Dean’s feeling just a little manipulated, but then it’s not like he wasn’t fully willing.

“The guy that much of a douche, huh?”

The genie’s face darkens. He honest to fuck shudders. “I can read people’s thoughts. I know what he has planned for me if I ever end up under his control. Just as I know you would never abuse me.”

It’s a lot to have somebody look at him, have such open faith; the last person to look at him like that was Sam, and it’d been a while. He was too old, now, to think his big brother could hang the moon for him.

“Well, he’s not gonna get you.” Dean doesn’t know why he’s making this assurance, but there’s a part of him already sure that he’s hanging on to this genie, and his lamp, and that he’s not about to let some shitty English guy, or anybody, get their grubby paws on him.

“You got a name?” 

The genie nods. “Castiel.”

“Castiel? Castiel...How about Cas?”

Castiel...Cas...nods. “Where will we go now?”

Dean leans back in his seat. That’s a question. If his dad finds out about him taking up with a genie, all hell will break loose.

But he can’t bring himself to care.

“Guess I better introduce you to my little brother,” he says. “And then...we’ll make some plans.”


End file.
